


Our Love is Easy

by Darkhymns



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, Deja Vu, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Melancholy, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhymns/pseuds/Darkhymns
Summary: We've gone down this road countless times. Why must it still be so frightening?





	

**Author's Note:**

> welp, i tried. /shrug shrug

The first time they made love, Sans had been completely silent.

Now, corniness of that line aside, he couldn’t even say it happened unexpectedly, because really, everything had led up to this moment. From a stealth exchange of a dirty joke via text, to the brushing of hands as he’d help her out with the dishes. And they weren’t the only ones to notice the tension; most of their friends had felt it whenever Sans and Toriel were in a room together lately. Even Papyrus could tell _something_ was up, especially as Undyne would openly glare in contempt/disgust when Sans chuckled at one of Toriel’s comments, and Papyrus always liked being on the same side as his best friend. It had obviously not been _that_ funny. Clearly he was smitten! Or smoten! Or whatever the correct verb usage was!

…Anyway, it wasn’t a total surprise when it happened. Except it still was. Toriel’s balcony needed some cleaning. Sans knew a few shortcuts for such tasks, and was happy to show her. Early evening always brought out the best in the sky, with its mixed colors of purple and pink, a reflection of the multicolored rocks back in Waterfall. She had looked so nice against it, like a constellation, like a detailed picture in one of those old, water-logged astronomy texts he still kept in his room.

He wasn’t sure what specific thing each said to the other to get to where they were, but the balcony was an offshoot of her bedroom, and, well… most people could guess what happened next.

But it doesn’t hurt to go into detail anyway.

Sans had whisked away the fallen leaves off the ground with a lazy wave, so dangerously perched on the railing, laying back on it. Toriel had asked, “Please do be careful,” and the tone she gave him was all encompassing, enough to send his arm shifting, nearly losing his balance. He was lucky that he had a good poker face, because he couldn’t help but stare at her again and the backdrop of the dimming sky. She had been near, close enough to catch him, he figured. That she would think so highly of such a numbskull.

“what can i say, tori? i like living on the edge.” The tease he then gave, he knew, had been a little mean. Purposefully leaning over the side, right leg dangling over, his whole body askew. Of course Toriel had immediately grabbed him, hefting his body so easily in his arms. She could crush him if she wanted to, he thought. Well, most monsters could, but Toriel would have been a special case.

“Sans! You could’ve broken something!”

“yeah, my dignity,” he had snickered. “wait, i lost that years ago.”

She had laughed, despite clearly not wanting to. That was a nice trick he learned, that he could do self-deprecating humor and still receive the gift of her laughter. It was like she couldn’t help herself. (That and her own self-deprecation beat his by miles upon miles, so _really_ could she judge him for that?)

“You could’ve broken my heart as well.” She then set him down, not wanting to make him feel inadequate by being carried around like a kid. He appreciated it. “You do understand that, I hope.”

“course, t.” He had leaned back against the balcony door, and – well – here’s where things got a little murky. Something about the balcony still needing to be cleaned (“I don’t believe you can just move the leaves from the balcony into my room, Sans.” “nah, just sweep it under the bed, no one will know”), and how tired Toriel was and how Sans… could not stop staring at her, and she had noticed and she had asked, “Do I look that dreadful today?”

“you never do,” was his answer, and it came out much softer than he meant it to, his intentions all too clear, and for monsters whose magic were made up from intentions, it was as close to a confession as he could do. Toriel had blushed, and it made her look even younger than before, younger than she was, younger than she believed herself to be.

He had been near her and he was not entirely sure who exactly made the first move (and wouldn’t he kinda know at least a little? Height differences sort of reinforced the whole ‘who leaned down’ or ‘who picked up who’ actions, but no. It’s all just a pleasant mess). Only that his fingers soon brushed through the fur at the back of her neck, and the feel of her tongue running down his chin to his mouth. Wow, she was not as virtuous as she liked to show herself as. Of course, he already knew that about her, and wanted to keep knowing, keep discovering, for as long as it took.

He had not made much sound during that, but that was basically a warm-up, and that’s not where the true silence came from. No, not yet, not when he first needed to bring her to the bed, with leaves curiously out of the way. Not when he ran hands made of fragile things over her pelt and watched, fascinated at the way the fur folded beneath his touches.

And before they made… Okay, the thing was, he wouldn’t have called it ‘making love’ in the first place if it weren’t for a few key facts. That implies a lot of touch-feely kind of stuff, and he usually wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy. He would’ve just called it having sex, or banging, or _boning._ Heh. But then, she had asked, “Is – are you alright with making love to me?” Her dress had been long gone by then, and he was sure his jacket must have joined it soon after, somewhere within the dark recesses of her room. And then he couldn’t dissociate the term from the act. He didn’t want to. Calling it anything less seemed like an insult, like he didn’t take any of it seriously.

And he did really like her. Incredibly so. Painfully, maybe, if he thought about it too much. And he had tried not thinking too much about it for a long while except…

Her claws had reached out to his ribs, and if it had only been claws, he might have not felt much but the vibrations of hardness against hardness. But she was as full of magic as he was, and it made contact with his own, like atoms pressing together, sending off reactions that no normal touch could really do. He shivered, pressing his hands against sensitivities that made her gasp into his chest, then into his mouth as he lifted her head to kiss her again. He promised himself he wouldn’t overwork himself this year, but wow, were those hard to keep. His bones trembled as he allowed what he was to emanate from his fingers, to fully make the soul beat within her body, to make it match with his, and it was something so intrinsic and so private that for the longest time, he couldn’t imagine doing such a thing with anyone.

Well, he had never been much of an imaginative guy to begin with.

The sky grew dark. She was naked under him, and he was finding ways to keep those noises of her going, to find out what exact motion made it rise in volume and intensity. Being a skeleton, even a magic skeleton, meant a certain lack of… accessories, so to speak. And conjuring such key parts was not exactly as easy as it sounded – no matter how much the humans up here believed that all magic was equal, and thinking that Sans could pull a blue-tinged rabbit out of his coat with nary a dab of concentration. He couldn’t, but with all those magic shows that he played out on the street for easy cash (family-friendly, of course), his audience would find it hard to say otherwise.

And he had other talents anyway. Magic fingers, all in the wrist… you get the deal. So all those years of practice and natural know-how, he put to the test, bringing Toriel near, hearing her whisper and gasp, watching how her back curved with a touch here and there. “you good?” he had asked, and she could only nod and moan, and it made him chuckle, leaning his grin into her ear. “want me here?” a quick shift, a quick tremble. “or here?” Toriel covered her mouth as his thumb made circles. “or maybe… you don’t want me at all?” The reaction he got was more than satisfactory, with her legs wrapping around his middle, with her mouth over his.

She was soft and all over him, and she could do so much better than these weak bones, but with as selfish as he was, he couldn’t let her go. He opened his jaw, letting her tongue travel freely, answering her with memories of azure, brimming like electricity to the fire within her.

And then – and here’s where things got weird – as he leaned over her, fingers making new designs inside her, his throat ready to form the syllables of her name, he was hit with the most intense case of déjà vu he had ever experienced.

Such moments were not frequent, but not really rare either. Sometimes he felt like he treaded over his own footsteps through the snow, or that he had uttered the same punchline one too many times. At the Ruins door, he recalled how Toriel’s voice had not actually been all that surprising. Like he had… expected it. Like he had known she was there. And there was the kid, walking down the path, turning around before he could even ask them to shake his hand.

_hey… did you already hear that joke before or what?…_ and his voice had trailed off, unsettled, unsure. Another mark in his reports; another piece that had rewound back to zero without any of his consent, or anyone else’s.

When Sans leaned over, teeth pressed against her, the feel of her fur rustling against his ribs, he knew that each and every sensation was familiar. The darkness was familiar, the scent was familiar – and her voice. The pitch that she used to utter his name, it was an echo of something that was more than a dream. It wasn’t the exact same, no, the room was different that other time, times, times way before. More lonely, more empty. She had been weeping, and he had been weak, the two left at a ruined place where the Underground now only knew of hopelessness and nothing but. He had reached out to her, wanting to console despite the fact that he was the least consoling thing around, and their kisses had become rough and desperate, and he had torn out her dress, both tangling in sheets that were relics of other days. There had been photographs on the wall; of family that he was sure would not have appreciated any of it. But she had been under him, and he had touched and pulled and soothed her to an end that he had felt reverberate in his spine.

But now, they were here, the sun was setting, and the pictures on the wall were new things, just taken a few months ago. The faces there still might not have approved, but it was not full of things best forgotten. And yet… he had forgotten. This had not been the first time, and each and every time he had been weak, and she had been so kind. In his weakness, he still found time for something good, brushing away the tears on her cheeks. _want me here? or here? or maybe… you don’t want me at all?_

The realization locked his voice. He could not get it back.

The silence was something he knew that Toriel would notice soon. At least with before, he mimicked the sounds of breathing, spoken to her, soft and as controlled as he could make it. She then raised her eyes to him, and it only made him move his hands through her more, quietly urging her soul to fall into his grasp, to unwind herself so that questions of his own disquietude was the furthest from her mind.

That had been a failure in the end. Not surprising, really. Once she had moved her head forward, kissing him deeply, hands scrabbling at his back, he saw it then. The change in her eyes. That brief moment of understanding, mingling with her climax, becoming almost cathartic.

At that moment, she remembered, too.

Sans wasn’t sure what exactly had made him move away after that. His fingers were still wet from her, and he could recall the taste of her mouth, the sweetness of it so penetrating that it took much out of him to not go back and kiss her again. The imprint of her soul stayed lodged within him, its very presence a sharp contrast to his own; warm and overwhelming to his own insignificance.

Still too familiar.

“Sans?” she had asked. She was a warm mass in the dark, her limbs moving like silhouettes, their shape indeterminate. He winced as he shifted away from her a little more. Bad move. He didn’t want to make her think he was regretting this. He just needed to process the other afterimages of her face close to his, the multiple instances of comfort overlaying the other for so many numerous reasons; for her own regrets, for the grounding understanding of his only family gone, but that was not why they were here because they had everyone and there is an actual sky above them instead of just wishes for one-

“Have we… done this before?”

His brother had once asked him if he himself knew the human. _well, do you not know… who you know?_ And of course, the great Papyrus knew who was known to him – all except for that child that walked through the snow, trodding confidently on the pathways, solving puzzles on first tries, and rolling around in the dirt before the guard dogs could initiate a thorough inspection. Did Toriel experience that as well, barring the child from moving forward, recognizing something else in their otherwise impassive face?

Sans had long stopped trying to keep track – the empty spaces inside his skull only grew larger, as looming as the void itself. A bit discouraging if one looked at it that way, and though he had shut the books and said _nope, no more_ to the reports and resolved to just wing through it all...he was just so bad at keeping promises made for any reason. He’d briefly check and there were the tallies which filled up pages and pages, leaving his grin a bit too tight to withstand. Very few details he jotted down though. Predicting the future was not as glamorous as it sounded. In fact, it really had a knack of keeping you stuck in place altogether.

He didn’t answer her. But they had done this before, and the number of times they did was almost too much for him to handle.

“Sans…” she called to him again, unsure, uncertain.

He grasped at her hand, fingers interlacing, teeth nudging at her neck as he scooted near again. Her shiver resonated against his jaw, and soon, some of his casualness became genuine. “probably in our dreams,” he said, his whisper blowing across the forest of her pelt. “i know i have, at least.”

Half-lies were always his specialty.

Toriel’s voice skittered with exhausted giggles as he continued to kiss her neck. She seemed to remember a thing called modesty, and tried to cover up her chest with her arm. But his other hand had traced down her stomach, bony limbs all aligned with her own. Still, he kept one eye on the balcony outside, overlooking the night sky – to keep in mind that there was not a wall in its place, barricaded from that other room, always in progress, _under renovations…_

It was from a before that didn’t exist and never will – except it could at any time. Nothing was set, that’s what he knew. Nothing was ever set, and the loves of yesterday can be wiped clean.

Toriel sat up, and the way she grasped at his ribs was more for keeping herself steady than anything else. “Please,” she… she begged him. “I cannot help but feel… a certain unease. Is this something we should be doing?” She looked down, reluctantly letting him go. “Are we putting ourselves at risk?”

Playing ignorant was also his specialty. “not sure what you mean, t.”

“Sans, you must feel it, too.” His eyes adjusted to the shadows. He could see every detail of her; the sea of cream-white that outlined her torso, the soft eyes that were like sunsets, like the autumn _leaves that outlined her old home back among discarded rock and ancient doorways._

He saw her tremble slightly, and wondered if the memory was there for her, too.

“This was… something that I truly needed. But I do not want to ruin what is…” She took a deep breath, folding her knees underneath her. “I do not want to make another mistake and ruin what we already have.”

That tangent thought lost him completely. “um?” was all he could say.

“I mean…” She looked so apologetic. “Perhaps this… new side of our relationship must be contained. If we go further, would that not…” Her voice trailed off, helplessly. But his dense skull finally got it.

“oh.” He shifted a little. “oh, uh.” She had interpreted this way differently.

Toriel had long ago unclasped their hands, keeping hers on her lap. He felt like the most awkward jumble of bones that ever got to grace the expanse of her bed, retreating back to silence.

Maybe Toriel was superstitious – maybe the memories had played out for her like an ominous thing, and with what she had been through, with the discarded shoes and the children she had buried, it was more foreboding than… reminiscent. But then, _heh,_ he figured not many would want to relive such lost futures where their one decision had turned out for the worse, and where their only friend was a free-loading skeleton who could barely offer much else besides his hands and a few lame jokes. Yeah, he could admit that was a bummer to experience during what should have been a fun activity.

It’s just. He really wanted to hold her and grab what he could before this future here was lost, too. Every other time was gone, blipped out of the very fabric of existence, left as only dim and fuzzy static in his head. And maybe hers, too. Maybe that was why she needed to end this before it could escalate.

“but, uh… do we need too?”

He saw her shift, raising her muzzle only slightly, not daring to meet his face. He pictured her seated in her armchair before the fireplace of her home, tears slipping down her cheeks, and how he cradled her face between his hands and – _stop,_ not the time for that to bleed into him. It’s not something he can remember fully anyway. Just the here and now, just the Toriel before him, and that was all that mattered.

“i mean, this is just me saying… i don’t mind if we keep doing this as just… a side option, you know.” He patted the back of his skull rather awkwardly. “like as a no strings attached kind of thing. no judgement on either side.” That sounded a bit dumb. “if that’s what you’re worried about?”

Toriel still looked down, eyes fixed firmly on her bare knees.

He sighed slightly, moving up to sit beside her. He didn’t reach for her, his hands instead gripping the mattress sheets beneath him. “you won’t have to deal with anything else. we can still hang out, same as always, except…”

It took him an embarrassingly long time to finally realize that he was proposing a friends with benefits kinda deal here. The insensitivity of it all silenced his words, but she had not moved away from him, and her bareness was still revealed, her fur a beautiful softness to the jaggedness of his bones. And maybe he was desperate, because he kept going with, “t, you said you needed this just now, and… i kinda get the feeling that it’s something that’s crossed your mind before. not that i’m blaming ya, everyone wants to jump these bones.”

She laughed at that. Not too much, more of a soft chuckle, but he saw some of the tension leave her shoulders.

“you won’t owe me anything for it, and, you definitely don’t owe me anything now-”

“Is it not unfair to you though?”

He took too long to try to process what she meant, as she continued with, “Is it not unfair of me to… use you like this?”

Honestly, he would like to feel useful, even like this. Especially like this.

He shrugged, wrapping both arms around his knees, wondering how ridiculous he looked without his clothes – like bleached sticks all assorted together.

“tori, you know i’m a skeleton that just likes to goof off and have fun… and this is fun.” That part was true. She deserved truth, even if the rest was hidden away. “we don’t have to make it anything more than that. everything will be fine.”

He heard shaky breathing.

Sans turned to see Toriel hunched over, hands over her muzzle, trying to fold in on herself as if to disappear. He reached out then, touching her neck. “tori, what’s-”

She took another deep breath, but the tears escaped her. She shook her head. “So familiar,” she was whispering. “Why does it sound _so familiar?_ Sans? I don’t- I don’t understand.”

He embraced her, letting her cry into his shoulder, slightly regretting he had nothing much else to offer, at least in a way that would be comfortable for her. Her hands brushed at his sternum. Her mouth pressed against his teeth. He kissed her before he could stop himself, one hand trailing up her side, moving past fur to the flesh beneath, as his magic moved past the corporeal for her.

“nothing bad will happen.” And like that forgotten time that was already falling from his head like fresh dust, he took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, keeping her sounds within him and trying to absorb it all as best he could. He knew that what he had just said were all things she had heard from him before, repeating themselves into this melody that was always bittersweet.

That erased moment hung in the air between them – where she must have found out from him (reluctant, always, always so), or from another monster (a passing conversation heard among the snows, the marshes, the rolling heat), or from Undyne, bitter at the former queen for trying to instate such a policy and yelling, and shouting ( _Don’t you see what that human did to all of us? To my friend?! He never told you, did he?_ )

In that erased moment, learning the full-length of her child’s viciousness, he had given her comfort, _everything will be fine_ , and couldn’t refrain from kissing away both of their loneliness.

He could not stop this repetition. He could not stop. “it’ll all be fine,” and he brought her closer until her tears had dried, until his soul beat hard, along with hers. “i promise.”

* * *

The house was full today.

Toriel’s laugh was a pure bleat, iconically hers, and full of substance that made clear her happiness as Papyrus and Frisk retrieved their own respective pies from the oven. Sans had given his bro’s work a cursory glance, noting the detail of the spaghetti strands sneaking out from the pie crust, and giving it his final judgement with a thumbs-up. Frisk had gone over to Toriel, holding up their miniature-sized pie, its filling consisting of rhubarb, and its crust outlined with chocolate streaks.

“I think you both did an excellent job,” Toriel announced, hands clasped. “Perfect to bring over to Undyne’s and Alphys’ housewarming.”

“yeah, those pies will really heat up the place.”

Papyrus sighed harshly, his disappointment so great, he nearly flailed his baked masterpiece into the ceiling fan. “SANS, YOU ASSURED ME YOU WOULD TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY.”

“Now, Papyrus, I’m certain that Sans is only trying to butter you up!”

This took a moment for both Papyrus and Frisk to catch on, but Sans remembered the lesson she had given them all today about the right amount of butter for the crusts, and laughed so hard that he had to lean against the counter.

The rest was all a happy blur – a very good one, with Toriel packing away the pies carefully in ribbon-wrapped boxes, with the doorbell ringing accompanied by Undyne’s enthusiastic knocking, with Alphys holding onto her girlfriend’s hand with a mess of a blushing face, glasses heating up, her scales warmed by the sun. Papyrus and Frisk dressed themselves for the occasion, wearing matching basketball biceps. They needed to look their best for the musical number that would be performed at the girls’ new home, with Mettaton choreographing all of it himself. Alphys had even brought over a sample of his repertoire of songs on her phone, though to Sans, it all sounded like modem noises to him. Apparently Asgore was part of it too, serving as part of the backup vocals with Shyren. (Gotta admit, he made a pretty good baritone).

They were all getting ready to go; they had hours to prepare for the other monsters to join, such as the vulkins that had been insistent, and the armless monster kid who had blabbed about the party to all who could hear. Sans zipped up his snow jacket for the spring day, making ready to don on some sneakers until he caught the way Toriel clutched at her purse. The blunt of one of her claws scratched at the material, she had nearly let go of the strap.

Ah, well.

Sans turned toward the open doorway.

“oh yeah, the kitchen’s a mess though,” he said, voice tired, already cracking his jawbone in a yawn. “guess we should clean it up before it gets too annoying later.”

Undyne had scoffed. “Aw, come on, that’s boring! Just get Woshua to do it!”

“I would not want to make them,” Toriel said. “Although, the oven has been due for a…” She gestured with a smile.

“catch up with ya guys in a bit. you won’t miss us.”

He could ignore the way Alphys was eyeing him, and maybe how the rest of the group could tell something was up, but to what extent was far out of their grasp. It was too foreign to their happy ending, earned with centuries of darkness and fading dreams. And that was good enough for him.

Once the others left, once he heard his bro’s voice finally fade away, he shoved away his footwear to the side, facing Toriel.

“you ok?”

She nodded her head, but could not speak.

He took her hand.

“come here,” he said, gently guiding her up the stairs.

“There is not much time,” she started, but she gripped his fingers tightly, enveloping them in her cascade of white fur. He pulled her close as they went into the bedroom. “I do not want to cause trouble.”

“you never do.” He let her sit on the edge of her bed, and she did so with relief, as if her legs could no longer bear the weight.

“I do not know what is wrong with me.”

“nothing,” he said, sitting with her, watching how her thumb pressed against a joint of his forefinger. “we just get tired once in a while.”

“Sometimes I want to cry.”

“you can if you need to.”

She didn’t. Instead she pressed her muzzle against the side of his skull. His hands reached out towards the clasps of her dress.

“I do not… I must not make people worry.”

“you’re not.” He gently pulled away the fabric, feeling the heat of her fur and the skin beneath.

“I do not want you to feel that you have to-”

He shook his head, pressing his palm against her cheek, leaning forward. He kissed her as if she would vanish from him. He kissed her as if he was actually made of flesh and of softness instead of a cheap construction, using his magic to call to her own. She gasped, her own hands slipping into the collar of his jacket, slipping it away, her touch gentle, handling him like pieces of broken glass.

Any moment, it will start over again.

Sans had no way of knowing when. He had very limited ways of knowing it even starting again in the first place. Only with the lucky save of a photograph and other memorabilia, and he’d just have an inkling of what’s been lost, or what’s best given up.

The private moments with Toriel were not common, but those few instances he tried to carve into his mind as much as he could. Every motion of hers was an echo of another Toriel he had seen, with another Sans holding her close, fingers working to edge her over. Maybe this was his way of trying to get those memories back. Because, truth to be said, he _really_ didn’t like having this hole in his head, working like a sieve whenever the timelines would reset, pouring out every meaningful moment as if it was worthless sand.

He did not want this to be worthless.

When she was under him, his hands grasped at her breasts, watching the way the corners of her mouth twitched. Her own fingers slipped between his ribs, and he tucked away his own sounds as he explored her over, again and again, knowing these pathways, these secret places, these journeys that he had embarked on so many times before. _At least that’s what his soul says._ It all replayed for him like the fading whispers of flowers, drowned out by the waterfalls, muted by the darkness, waiting to be rediscovered. This time, it will stay. This time, he had to gouge his memory deep, engrave it within his bones and watch it carry over into the next. _But it won’t. It won’t._

“I cannot just…” she breathed, and he only had a vague idea of what she was going to say, but he held her close, hands as deft as they could ever be.

“i got you.” Her sounds turned to whimpers, just slightly, and it pierced through him, making him sink into her. “just stay with me, it’s fine.”

His mouth took her heat, and his hands gripped tightly, watching her come as the fading sunlight dappled across her chest, streaming in from the mostly shut blinds. He had left one side open just a sliver. He needed to know the world was still there.

He needed to know time still moved on without them.

Afterwards, Toriel had confessed to him, “Every time we do this, I suddenly get very frightened.”

The weight of his guilt was sudden and overbearing. “tori, if that’s what this has…”

She stopped him, wrapping around him tight, her breath still coming short and quick. “I always recall something sad, something…  I cannot take back. Yet, I must remember, you are here with me still. And I think that is enough.”

Again, a brief flash, _You are here with me still_ , and he wondered, again. Did they always fall on each other at some point in another timeline? Or were there others where they couldn’t? Where it was impossible?

Toriel was quiet, face buried into his collarbone, somehow finding comfort despite everything. Despite everything. It was still her, she was still here, and she loved him. And despite everything, she was afraid. This could all go away, even if she did not know just why.

“Should we not be going soon?” she asked, her voice echoing through his rib cage.

“we got time.” He shifted, one hand caressing behind her ear. “don’t worry about it.”

“Do we really?” she asked, and in her tone was something desperate. He knew the feeling all too well.

“yeah.” He tugged at a small ear tuft. “c’mon, ear me out over here.”

She laughed breathlessly, her mouth covering his, unable to stop. These instances were private, isolated – if they made anything official, would that not just be a signal? An invitation to end it all? Hope for something big, and it’s only inevitable that reality existed to crash it all down.

“it’ll be fine,” he told her, and she believed him. If he kept kissing her, maybe he could believe it too.

Before they had to leave, before they had to go to Undyne’s and Alphys’, before they had to endure a three-hour musical number, before they had to go back to the warm voices, before they had to repeat this ritual of need, before they had to cover it all up to keep their affairs private, for just a while, for just a little longer-

He could believe that it would all stay. Maybe this time, maybe this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Story title inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLSjZHshqj0) by Melody Gardot.


End file.
